The Gunslinger
by Glamdring804
Summary: Sometimes, it just comes down to a man and his gun. This is the story of Dellander, a Hunter who wakes up alone in the wilderness of Old America.
1. Part 1

Dellander came back to life with a splitting headache.

Oh dear Lord, it hurt! Like someone had driven a nail straight through his forehead! The pain throbbed between his eyes, nearly blinding him.

A memory flashed through his mind, little more than a vague impression. Standing on a dusty lane, the sun beating down. Rough wooden buildings and huddled faces on either side. A single figure opposite, hand near his hip. A peculiar weight of dread settled over him.

And just like that, the memory and the pain were gone, evaporated under his scrutiny. Funny how that worked.

"Wait a minute," Dellander realized, "I was dead…"

"That's a bit of an understatement," a husky voice said above him. "You know, I actually expected you to be a burnet, not a blonde."

Dellander shook the spots out of his eyes and sat up. The voice came from a little black and gray ball, floating above him. It stared at him with a square blue eye, and somehow managed to project the impression that it was bored.

"And you sound like a redhead," Dellander muttered. He fumbled about and reached for something to pull himself up. His hand closed around a tree branch.

He dragged himself to his feet and wobbled slightly. The boughs of a massive pine tree surrounded him. Bright sunlight shone down outside the canopy, and a few dusty rays filtered through the needles. Several rocks sat half buried in the dirt around him, including one near where his head had been. They were old and weathered, but he could make out hints of letters carved into them. Tombstones. He was standing in a graveyard. His graveyard.

The little ball-thing was still watching him.

"So," Dellander said, "You mind telling me how I came back to life? That was you, right?"

The ball-thing shrugged, despite the fact it didn't have shoulders. "You were the only one I could find that I actually _could_ bring back. Which is strange, since you were dead long before the Golden Age."

"That makes no sense to me."

"Well, it shouldn't. You _were_ dead, after all." The ball-thing sighed. "I'm a Ghost, well, now I'm your Ghost. I was created to find a corpse I could resurrect so you can fight to protect the last remaining survivors of humanity, and all that jazz. You're back now, so we should probably find some civilization before you get killed. Again."

"Right," Dellander said. He stretched his neck and shook the pins and needles out of his hands. "What the hell is jazz?"

The ball-thing sighed again. "This is going to take a while, isn't it?"

* * *

The next five days were uneventful. Dellander had died and come back in a high mountain valley, lined with rolling pine forests and drained by a rushing creek. The Ghost, who said her name was Silla, led him down the cirque and out of the mountains. The creek wound its way onto a broad, grassy plain, lined by more mountains on either side. It emptied into a river in the middle of the valley. Dellander followed the river for a few days, and finally emerged onto the open prairie.

"So, where exactly are you taking me?" he asked the Ghost on the fifth day.

"North, over the next range of mountains," Silla explained, "This land was once part of the North American Empire. It's mostly empty now, but there's some missile silos near an old military base."

"And what's for us there?" Dellander said.

"Nothing we can use," Silla replied, "But the Fallen have been scavenging in the area a lot. And wherever the Fallen are, other Guardians are close behind."

"The Fallen…" Dellander said, "You keep talking about them, murderous pirates from beyond the stars. You want to walk right into their arms, in the hopes that we'll find a friendly face that's also stupid enough to go after them?"

"Basically, yes."

"Right. Of course."

* * *

On the sixth day, he found the aliens.

There were three of them. Two were short and spindly, and had spiky hair on top of their heads. They definitely weren't human. Each had four beady eyes, and a pair of short stumps under their arms. The third one was taller and thicker. It had four clawed arms, and a helmet with short horns.

Dellander crouched behind a low outcrop on a ridge above their camp. They had set up at the bottom of a small glen, next to a stand of cottonwood trees. They looked bored. A little red box hovered next to the camp like some kind of watch dog.

"It looks like a scouting party," Silla said, "House of Devils, judging by the colors. I didn't expect them to be this far south."

"So what does that mean to me?" Dellander asked.

"It means we have to be careful," Silla replied, "You're just one person, and there must be thousands of Fallen in the region. I should probably give you your gun."

"How are you going to give me a gun? I don't think there's any pieces around here, and you don't exactly have pockets."

"No silly, I have it encoded in transmatter storage. Hold out your hand."

"Transmatter storage. Of course. I should have known."

The Ghost glared at him. He held out his hand.

A shimmer of light formed in his palm and solidified into a worn gray revolver. It was the strangest pistol he had ever seen. The thick gray barrel was attached to the _bottom_ of the cylinder, and instead of chambers for bullets, it held a short little tube.

"What kind of piece is this?"

"One that shoots," Silla snapped, "You're lucky the Gunsmith even let me have it. He laughed when I came to him, a Ghost without a Guardian, asking for a weapon."

"Well, sorry I asked." Dellander slid back down the ridge so he was out of sight of the Fallen. He stood up and started making his way parallel to the ridge, around their camp.

Silla trailed behind him, confused. "You're not going to kill them?"

"I probably could if I wanted to," Dellander replied, "I know how to use a gun. That much I remember."

He glanced around, looking for a place to store the firearm. Silla appeared next to him and made a holster out of the light-stuff.

"I sense a 'but,'" Silla said as she vanished again.

"But," Dellander continued, "Like you said, they're scouts. If I kill them, how long will it take for someone to find the bodies and have every one of them combing the area for me? I don't like my odds against a few hundred of them, when all I have to show is a pistol and a knife."

"Huh. That's actually pretty intelligent of you. I was told Hunters tend to just charge in and try to kill everything, regardless of the extreme danger."

"Well," Dellander said, "I'm sorry to disappoint."

* * *

The Fallen were all over the countryside. A low mountain range appeared on the northern horizon, and as he approached it, the aliens seemed to multiply. He had to choose his path carefully, sticking to gullies, thickets, and any other cover he could find.

Sometimes, a flying ship would pass overhead. It would appear out of nowhere, swoop low over the ground, drop a squad of Fallen, and vanish again, gone like the wind.

"Why are there so many of them?" Silla asked as they watched another flying ship come over the horizon. "The old military base is on the _other_ side of the mountains. They must have found something in the area. Something they can loot."

Silla kept watch at night. Floating balls didn't need to sleep, apparently. He didn't get much rest anyways, lying under the stars in his unfamiliar clothing. He couldn't shake the feeling they were walking in the wrong direction. People usually ran away from danger, not towards it.

He reached the mountains four days after first seeing the Fallen. Travelling became easier with the cover of the pine forests.

A day later, he found the village.

It looked deserted from a distance. The ramshackle collection of buildings sat in a meadow on a long, forested valley. There were fields above and below it. They looked like they had been well tended to, but weeds were starting to grow at the edges.

He made his way down a narrow path worn between the crops. The village proper had maybe twenty buildings. They looked like they had been thrown together from whatever scraps of metal, wood and cloth the builders could find. The buildings were loosely arranged around a central square, which had a small well at the center.

Dellander strode between the buildings, looking for any signs of life. Grass grew in corners, and an aspen grove shaded one of the lanes, but the place didn't look overgrown. It hadn't been abandoned in a hurry either. No random belongings strewn about, nothing knocked over as the inhabitants fled.

He stopped next to the well. A pair of buckets, each tied to a rope, sat next to the low stone wall. A locust clacked somewhere in the distance. A meadowlark replied with a warbling chirp. The midday sun beat down on the dusty square, rough wooden buildings on either side. Huddled faces on either side and a single figure standing across from him.

He blinked, and the images vanished. They were never there, just phantoms of a memory. The memory retreated, and he was left with a crushing sense of dread. That too faded after a moment.

"Where is everyone?" Dellander asked aloud, dragging his thoughts back to the present. "This place hasn't been empty for long, and it doesn't look like there's been a fight. No blood, no signs of struggle. That means the Fallen didn't kill them. They didn't rush to escape either. Did they just leave after the Fallen arrived?"

"That's a good question," Silla replied.

"You've got strange powers. Can't you figure out what happened?"

Silla sighed. "I have a full suite of spectrographic sensors, resonance analysis modules, and paracausal phenomenon algorithms, but I don't have the computational power to extrapolate convergent timelines."

"Only about half of those words make any sense to me."

The Ghost rolled her eye. "I'm a little black ball that can bring you back to life, but I can't see the future or past."

"Well, you could've just said so," Dellander muttered, strolling to the back of the village. The back of his neck tingled, a phantom hunch of instincts from a past life. He lowered his hand to the grip of his gun.

"Okay Silla," he muttered, "Someone's watching us. You can't see the future, but can you tell if anyone else is in the area?"

"That depends," the Ghost replied. She split apart, the pyramids of her shell expanding outward. "There aren't any heat signatures in the buildings…no hidden rooms either…Huh. There's an old mineshaft up the slope, half a kilometer up. And…yep. There's a thermal pattern standing in the entrance. It's human."

"Let's go introduce ourselves," Dellander said. He walked past the edge of the village and entered the sloping pine forest. Dusty rays drifted down between the needles.

"The person watching us just disappeared. I think they went deeper into the mine," Silla said.

Dellander crested the shallow slope and entered a break in the trees. The mine entrance was bermed into the far side of the clearing. The thick timbers framed the dark tunnel.

He watched the dilapidated opening for a moment, and walked inside.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Silla asked, "The wilds are a hostile place. Whoever's down there might try to kill you."

"Well," Dellander said, "Ten days ago, I was dead, and I haven't seen a single human being since then. Seeing another face will be good for me. Besides, if I die, you can just bring me back, right?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't make getting your face blown off a _good_ idea."

Dellander ignored the Ghost and pushed further into the tunnel. The shadows swallowed the light, and the entrance quickly shrank to a distant square behind him. Silla appeared by his shoulder and lit up like a bright white lantern.

"Huh," Dellander said, "That's handy."

"I'm full of useful stuff," Silla replied in a dry tone.

He continued deeper into the mine. The temperature dropped as he walked. A thin sheen of condensation coated the walls. A trickle of water dripped somewhere in the distance.

Most of the struts were thick and old, like the beams that supported the entrance, but a few of them looked new and recently cut. Someone was actively maintaining the old mine.

A soft scraping noise drifted from ahead. Dellander drew his pistol and held it up, barrel towards the ceiling.

Dellander rounded a corner. A sharp, leathery woman stood blocking the tunnel. She held a shotgun in her hands, and blinked in surprise at the bright light of his Ghost. He caught a glimpse of several faces far behind the woman

There was a bright flash, a deafening crack, and then darkness.

* * *

"Shit," the dry voice said, "It's true. They really can come back to life."

A dull pain coated his chest and neck. His muscles clenched and tightened and relaxed again as his insides shuddered back into action. His heart pounded like a drum in his ears, but it quickly faded and settled to a normal pace. The pain in his body leached away and was replaced with warm pinpricks. He became vaguely aware of a trickle of water dripping somewhere in the distance.

Dellander groaned and opened his eyes. The weathered looking woman loomed over him, twin barrels of her shotgun pointed at his head.

"Think very carefully about your next move," she said in her dry and worn voice, "Or you'll eat another lead breakfast."

"I don fhink thad would whork," he replied with a thick voice. He rolled over and spat out a clot of blood. "Judging by how well it went last time."

"See," Silla said, "I told you you'd get your face blown off." The Ghost glared at him and vanished in a puff of light.

"If the stories about the heroes are true," a deep voice said behind the woman, "Then maybe it means the city is real. A place shielded by the Traveler and defended against the Fallen."

Dellander slowly pulled himself to his feat. The woman kept her gun trained on him. His own piece lay on the ground a few feet away, but he made no move to grab it.

Silla had disappeared, but he could still see. The warm yellow light came from a lantern held by a man behind the woman. There were several more faces crowded behind him, men and women in threadbare clothing. The man with the lantern was the one that spoke. He had dark braids, tan skin, and a clipped beard.

"Start talking, Mister Invincible," the woman said, "What's your story?"

Dellander hesitated. The woman had just shot him, but his instincts told him they weren't his enemies. No point in not being honest.

"My name's Dellander," he replied, "And I know about as much as you do. Up until about ten days ago, I was dead as a doornail. That city you mentioned, I'm trying to find my way there myself. All I've found so far is you."

The woman grunted. She watched him closely with her piercing brown eyes. Her face was lined with age, and her brown and gray hair was pulled back in a tight tail. She wore a vest and trousers, and held her shotgun with obvious ease and familiarity. Her hands were rough and calloused. Hands that worked for a living.

"You mind explaining what you were doing poking around our town?" she asked. Her voice was measured and controlled.

"I was just passing through," Dellander said, "My little floating friend says there's others like me up north, ones who have flying ships that can carry us to the city."

"The only things north of here are rust, rubble, and a bunch of Fallen."

"Well, seeing as I'm recently come back from the dead, it's not like I have a whole lot of options. If you don't mind _my_ asking, why you holed up here, and not tending your food supply?"

"Isn't it obvious?" the man with the deep voice said. He spoke with a slight accent. "The Fallen, they're everywhere. They didn't used to come this far south, and then three weeks ago, they did. We've been hiding ever since."

"So why didn't you just leave?" Dellander asked, "Why hide up here, waiting for them to find you?"

"And go where?" the man replied, "South of here is wilderness, and north of here is all Fallen territory. We're the only town for hundreds of miles around. Nowhere for us to go."

"You could come with me, try to find the city."

The woman laughed. "The city. Right. It's on the other side of the world, if the stories are to be believed. As far as I'm concerned, that mean's it doesn't exist."

"Selma," the man with the deep voice said, "He does have a point. We won't be able to tend the crops if we stay here. We don't even have enough food to last the winter. We'll die in this hole."

"We've been over this, Dramu," the woman, Selma, replied, "We're staying. It's not worth the risk with the Fallen controlling the passes. We'll get cut down within a day. We'll wait them out. Sooner or later, they'll find what they came for, and they'll move on."

The man frowned, but didn't continue to argue.

Dellander shrugged. "Well then, if that's your decision, I'll be on my way. Pleasure meeting you lot, even if you did try to kill me."

He picked up his gun and slid it in the holster. He nodded to the huddled villagers behind Selma and turned around and left.

The afternoon sun was starting to dip towards the horizon as he emerged back into the daylight. He crossed the clearing and leaned against a thick tree opposite of the mine.

"What are you doing?" Silla said, appearing by his side, "I thought you said we were leaving."

"We are," Dellander replied, "I'm just waiting for them."

"But, they said they were staying."

"That they did."

Silla stared at him for a moment, then sighed and flew off to a nearby bush. She began scanning its leaves. Dellander pulled out his knife and idly tossed it into the tree's roots, the barbed tip sticking with a thunk.

Time passed. The sun inched closer to the horizon and began to bleed gold. The warm mountain air slowly started to lose its edge. The evening was calm, pleasant even. It betrayed none of the danger he knew lurked around them, pirates from the stars that could sneak up on him at any moment.

Eventually, Dramu, the deep-voiced man emerged from the mine. He seemed surprised when Dellander stepped out from under the tree.

"You're still here?" he said.

"Yep."

"So you knew we would change our minds."

"Yep."

"I'm going to be perfectly honest with you," Dramu said, "I don't know who you are, or what you want. I don't even know if we can trust you."

"I'm a lot more trustworthy than you, seeing as you shot me."

"You surprised us. Selma doesn't like taking chances, and I don't blame her. Besides, you don't seem to be having any lasting problems. You just walked off death like a bad sneeze. That makes you useful."

"You mean disposable," Dellander replied.

The man shrugged. "I suppose. Know this; we are leaving, but you are by no means be our leader. You're helping us, not the other way around."

"Nope, I'll just be a guy with a gun. That's something I'm more than capable of. When do we leave?"

"Tonight, as soon as we are ready."

* * *

Three nights later, Dellander watched as the eastern sky slowly began to lighten. The deep black-blue of the night slowly bled into dark gray. The gray brightened to pale blue, then soft orange and yellow. The stars vanished one by one, blotted out by the approaching dawn.

They made camp at dawn. He scanned the villagers as they bedded down in a grove of pine trees on the side of the valley. Traveling at night was taking a toll on them, but it kept them out of sight.

Not that he was sure that would do any good. Silla could see peoples' body heat. What's to say the Fallen couldn't do the same? They hadn't been spotted yet, so there was that much at least.

He turned back to the camp and located Selma. The older woman was talking with Earl, the lanky teenager she had assigned to scouting duty. He and his sister Kara were young and quiet, and had the best eyes in the entire village.

"…continued east, up past the bend," Joel was saying, "No sign they're actually following us."

"We would know if they've seen us," Selma said, "That's still closer than I would like. We need to move faster. We'll break camp tonight at sundown. You get some rest. Dramu and Kara can take the shift."

Joel nodded and found a place to lie down. The kid looked tired and worn. All the villagers did, but they didn't complain. They didn't really talk much at all. Their lives were on the line, and they might not see the end of the week. He realized it was a notion they were probably familiar with.

"Well Mister Invincible," Selma said, glancing at him, "Do you have something you want to say?"

"You're right," Dellander replied, "We're making good time, but it's not enough. Those Fallen that were following us, they would have passed through your village. They know there's someone in these mountains."

Selma grunted. "That little floating friend of yours? You sure it can see their ships when they're invisible?"

"I'm not an it, I'm a she," Silla said indignantly, appearing over Dellander's shoulder, "and yes, I can detect them just fine. The Fallen's cloaking is fairly advanced, but it can't make them disappear completely. I'll know if they're close."

Selma grunted again. "Get some rest yourself. You're our distraction if they catch up to us, and you won't do us any good if you're half asleep."

Dellander nodded but didn't move to find a place to lie down. He thought a moment, letting the idea churn in his mind. Silla said these mountains were supposed to be empty wilderness. The Fallen were pirates and scavengers, so what was in it for them?

"What did they find up here?" Dellander said aloud.

"Huh?" Selma said, glancing at him.

"The Fallen," Dellander replied, "They have no rights being here, in the empty forest. My little friend says they scavenge to survive, so they must've found something to pillage. Silla, is there anything up here that they might want, some building like the silos they're looting in the lowlands?"

"I don't know," the Ghost replied, "I'm actually not very well acquainted with the history of the area. I was in old Denver until a few months ago."

"It's the mines," Selma said, "These mountains are full of tunnels like the one you found us in. Most of them are older than the Golden Age, but my old man used to talk about how a bunch of scientists decided to build vaults in them for their inventions. I always thought it was just something he made up, but I guess stories have to start somewhere."

"So there's some sort of treasure here, hidden in the hills," Dellander said.

"I guess there could be. I don't care what the Fallen are looking for. They're here, and they'll kill us if they find us. That's all that matters." Selma walked away, apparently deciding that was the end of the conversation.

Dellander shrugged. She was right of course. Their only priority right now was getting to safety, wherever that might be. Still, if there was something up here worthy of the aliens' attention, maybe it was worth theirs too.

He shook his head and yawned. He glanced around the little camp. The villagers lay huddled under boughs of the pine trees, out of sight from above. Dellander found his own tree to lean against, and within moments, he was asleep.

* * *

He woke to someone shaking his shoulder. He immediately reached for his gun. A hand gently grabbed his arm as he wrapped his fingers around the grip.

The hand belonged to Earl, who knelt next to him with a finger to his lips. The youth released Dellander and backed away, motioning for him to follow. Dellander stood and followed him as quietly as he could.

The sun was sometime past noon, but nowhere close to setting. They wouldn't break camp for another few hours. It made no sense for Earl to get him up now…unless something had happened.

Dellander followed Earl away from the sleeping villagers, to where Selma, Dramu, and Kara, Earl's sister, stood. They were having a conference of some sort, talking back and forth in hushed tones.

"What's going on?" Dellander asked as he approached the group.

"We have a problem," Dramu said, "A Fallen problem." The burly man motioned for Kara to speak.

"There's a squad of them camped just down the valley," Kara said, "About a dozen, on a ledge overlooking a meadow. There's no way past them without being seen."

"That means they're blocking our way out of the mountains," Selma added, "No way forward, no way back." The woman bit her lip. Dellander could see she was thinking coming with him was a mistake.

"So what are our options then? Cross the ridge and go down the next valley over?" Dellander asked.

"Too exposed," Selma replied, "There's no cover on the ridges. They would spot us in minutes."

"What about south? Head back up the valley and find another way out."

"And walk right into the arms of the squad that's been following us? Even if we did get past them, there's going to be more of them around here. They have us trapped, they just don't know it yet."

"There's no other way past?" Dellander asked, "No way to keep going without tipping them off. You're sure of that?"

"That would appear to be the case," Dramu said.

"Well, if they're forcing our hand," Dellander continued, "We might as well play what we got. Silla, how far are we from those silos?"

"About three days, at the pace we've been going," Silla said "There's a ravine running through the plains that we can use for cover, but it will slow us down. We could in theory camp out there while we wait for a Guradian ship to come near."

Dellander thought a moment. "Selma, do you think you could convince them to move a little faster, and keep going through the day?"

"I'm sure we could, but I'm _not_ sure I want to know why you're asking."

"You said it, they have us trapped. My proposal is we push forward and break out of our noose before they tighten it. We take out the squad on the overlook, and we make a beeline straight down the mountain before the rest realize something's wrong."

Selma bit her lip. "That's pretty risky. The Fallen will definitely know we're here."

"Do we have any other options?"

Selma was silent for a moment. "No. We don't."

"Right. Once we do this, we need to move like the devil's on our back."

"Get going then. This was your idea, Mr. Invincible," Selma said, "You get to take point. Me and Dramu will give you cover fire with our rifles. Earl, Kara, get the others ready. Be on the move as soon as the gunshots start."

The aging woman traded her shotgun out for Earl's rifle, while Dramu readied his own weapon.

Dellander checked his own pistol and started walking north, right towards the enemy.

* * *

The helmet Silla gave him was the strangest thing he had ever worn. The full mask enclosed his face, but a tinted visor let him see out. It wasn't nearly as claustrophobic as it looked - it let him breathe normal and everything - but it still felt confining to have his face covered.

He realized there would be trouble when he saw the Fallen camp. They had set up on a ledge high up the mountain, close to the ridge. Dellander counted eleven of them, six short ones, and five of the ones with four arms. Two of the red boxes floated off to the side. As he neared the camp, he could make out a small tangle of equipment sitting on the ledge. Four rounded boxes were connected with thick chords, and a narrow pole, maybe twelve feet tall, rose from the middle.

Dellander crept closer, moving carefully from cover to cover. Selma and Dramu were somewhere behind him, watching with their rifles. The scraggly trees and bushes stopped about fifty feet from the ledge. He would have to cross the last stretch in the open.

He paused behind the last bush and surveyed the pirates. Like the first group he had seen, they seemed bored, like they'd rather be anywhere than stuck on the side of a mountain, guarding a pile of boxes and an empty slope. The near side of the ledge was exposed to the wind and sun, but most of them sat towards the back, under a clump of scraggly trees.

"Silla," Dellander whispered, "I need a distraction. Can you go to the far side and make some noise?"

"I have a better idea. Instead of exposing me during combat, why don't you throw a grenade instead?"

Dellander frowned. "You have grenades now? What else to you have tucked in your imaginary pockets?"

The Ghost rolled her eye. "No, you can use your powers to summon a grenade made out of Light."

"What powers?"

"Your powers to channel the Light as a weapon," Silla replied.

"You mean, like magic?"

"You could call it that, since you aren't advanced enough to understand what the Light actually is."

"Hey, that's not-"

"Do you want a distraction or not?"

"Yes?"

"Good. Summon the Light in your hand, and shape it into a grenade."

"I have no clue what you mean."

Silla huffed. "Okay, your source is Solar based…so picture a fireball, or a bright light in your hand."

Picture a fireball. He could do that. He imagined his hand covered in flames. Nothing.

He closed his eyes and concentrated harder, this time seeing his hand coated with bright light, like a lantern. When he opened his eyes, the only thing covering his hand was his thin glove. He shook out his fingers. He had come back from the dead. Was it really such a stretch that he could use magic too?

Solar. Silla had said Solar. Didn't that just mean the sun?

A dusty lane, rough wooden buildings on either side. The sun beating down, a lone figure opposite…

A spike of warmth shot down his arm. It pooled in his hand, tingling like needles.

Dellander looked down. His hand was coated in glowing golden mist. A solid nugget of the stuff formed in his palm. A grenade.

He threw it at the Fallen.

The ball of Light landed in the middle of the camp, right next to the crates. One of the Fallen saw it and hissed in alarm. The others looked up at the disturbance.

The grenade exploded in a luminous fireball. The closest Fallen was knocked to the ground, its arms and side lit on fire. The rest of the pirates screeched in pain and looked away as the crates started burning.

Dellander jumped out from behind the tree and fired his pistol at the nearest pirate. A deafening bang rang across the clearing as the bullet ricocheted off the side of its helmet. The pirate clutched its head and stumbled back. Dellander's arm kicked back from the recoil.

He gripped the revolver with both hands and fired again. The bullet struck the pirate in the chest. It dropped like a sack of potatoes.

The other pirates rushed to grab their weapons. Dellander didn't give them the chance. He fired three more shots, aiming for their unarmored necks. Two of them hit, but the third shot went wide and struck a four-arms in the shoulder.

Dellander lined up his next shot. A blue bolt of lightning hit his shoulder as he pulled the trigger. He stumbled backwards as his bullet sailed wide. He glanced down at his shirt. A line of smoke trailed up from the black burn mark.

Another lightning bolt whizzed past his head. It came from one of the floating red boxes. Up close, he could see that each had three glass eyes and a little gun mounted to the bottom. The second box flew next to the first and opened fire. Dellander cursed and ran as little lightning bolts rained down around him.

He ducked and slid underneath the lip of the ledge. He could hear movement above as the pirates regrouped and readied their weapons. He grabbed an ammo cylinder from his belt and reloaded his pistol. He did a quick tally in his head. Eight left, plus those two attack-boxes.

There was hard _thuk_ , followed by a loud crunch and a distant echo of a gunshot.

Dellander didn't hesitate. He jumped up the side of the ledge, instincts telling him he could reach the top. Mid way through his leap, a spike of warmth shot down his legs and pushed him into the air, depositing him neatly on the ledge.

The pirates turned to face him, even as a distant gunshot struck one in the head. Dellander opened fire and emptied his gun. The remaining attack-box and a two-arms went down, and another grabbed at its injured leg.

Seven Fallen remained, and two of them were injured. They had managed to pick up their weapons, but the shots from Dramu and Selma forced them to retreat behind the trees and burning crates.

The four-arms in the back aimed its weapon at him. Dellander rolled to the side as it fired. The lightning bolts _curved_ towards him and hit his leg. He yelped in pain as the bolts burned through his clothes and seared his flesh.

His mind raced. No bullets in his gun. Nearest cover was fifteen feet behind him. The four-arms was about to fire again.

In one smooth motion, Dellander whipped out his knife and threw it at the four-arms. The blade flashed across the clearing. It hit the four-arms in the eye, right between the helmet and mask.

That bought him enough time to reload his revolver. There were six left, and he had six bullets in the chamber.

He stepped forward, careful not to put too much weight on his injured leg. He was too close to the Fallen for Selma and Dramu to get a clean shot. This was on him now.

One of them peeked out around the tree. He took its head off. The second took the opening and charged, crackling knives in its hands. His bullet pierced its neck. It died with a choked gurgle.

Dellander advanced. Two of them were hiding behind the burning crates. He waited for them to make a move, but they had learned from the others' deaths.

He wiggled his fingers and pictured a little sun in his hand. The grenade formed much easier this time. He tossed it towards the crates. The pirates saw it coming and scrambled away. He cut them down as the grenade exploded and destroyed what was left of the crates.

The last two-arms panicked and blindly fired its pistol at him. Dellander grunted as a bolt hit him in the side. He returned the favor with a bullet in its chest.

One four-arms remained. He could just see it crouching behind a thick tree. Dellander charged.

He closed the distance in moments. The four-arms whipped its rifle up towards him. Dellander blocked with his left arm. He grunted as he felt one of his bones crack. He pressed his barrel against its stomach and pulled the trigger.

The Fallen gasped in shock. Dellander met its four eyes. Strangely expressive eyes that were utterly terrified.

It crumpled in a heap as life went out of its body.

Dellander swayed, heart hammering in his chest, hands shaking. It was afraid of dying. And he killed it…

Blinding pain snapped him back to reality. His arm throbbed with acutely sharp sensation. His thigh also ached, though it felt mild in comparison.

Before he even realized it, the pain started to fade and yield to cold tingling. The bone in his arm bent back into shape and fused together. The burnt skin on his leg peeled away and revealed soft pink flesh underneath. A patch of new cloth grew over it.

He took a deep breath. Why did killing it shake him so badly? It was either it or him. It was simple. Kill or be killed.

He holstered his gun and pushed the thoughts away.

"Thanks," he said aloud.

Silla appeared in front of him. "Hm. Healing you is actually fairly easy if you're not completely dead." She flew over to the nearest pirate and bathed it with a beam of light. She frowned, dissatisfied, and moved on to the next corpse.

"What are you doing?" Dellander asked.

"Searching for something I can convert into programmable matter," the Ghost replied, "I can only use certain atomic ratios to make bullets for your gun."

"Huh," Dellander said.

"Well Mister Invincible," Selma said as she climbed onto the ledge, "it looks like Dramu was right about you." She surveyed the bodies of the dead Fallen.

Dramu appeared next to her and walked to the smoldering remains of the crates. "This was a transmission relay," he said, "It won't take them long to miss it. They probably already know something is wrong."

Dellander knelt next to one of the bodies and yanked his knife out of its eye. He glanced to the west, where the setting sun dipped behind a thick bank of clouds. It painted the valley in warm tones, even as the coming storm grew beneath it.

"You're the boss."


	2. Part 2

"Hold on a sec," Silla said, "I'm picking up a ship."

Dellander stopped and let his hand drop to the handle of his gun. The villagers continued past him, their clothes bundled tight against the rain. The thick drizzle had set in shortly after sunset, and continued through the night. It had to be getting close to morning now - the darkness wasn't quite as absolute - but they wouldn't be stopping with the new day. The storm would give them some measure of concealment at least.

"Fallen?" Dellander asked, "What way are they heading?"

"It's approaching from the north-east, but it's not Fallen…the heat signature is all wrong, and it's not cloaked. It's a jumpship! A Guardian!"

"Are you sure?" Dellander asked.

"Yes, I'm positive. It's definitely a City ship. I'm hailing them now"

He pushed down his excitement. "Will they be able to see us in this gloom?"

"Don't worry," Silla said, "They can trace the transmission back to us." The Ghost paused, waiting for something. "Looks like they got it. The ship just turned around. It's heading to a nearby clearing."

Dellander grinned underneath his cowl. He had been worried they wouldn't be able to find help once they got out to the plains, and they'd just be exposed to the elements. Now, he didn't have to worry. Another Guardian, with a flying ship that could take them to the city.

He jogged to the front of the group, where Selma led the way through the misty trees.

"Selma," he said as he caught up with the aging woman, "There's a flying ship overhead, a Guardian ship," he said.

She stopped and motioned for the villagers to halt. "You're serious?"

"Yes," Dellander said, "It's landing in the clearing up ahead."

"Take us there," she said after a moment.

Dellander nodded and set off at a brisk walk. The villagers followed.

"Which way?" he asked Silla.

"A little to the right, and up the slope," the Ghost replied, "This would be easier if you kept your helmet on."

"I told you, the thing's too stuffy." He followed her directions until he emerged into a narrow, grassy meadow. The rain enveloped the trees and the grass, making everything gray and indistinct.

The villagers caught up with him. They waited under the edge of the trees, breath misting in the damp chill. Minutes slipped by.

A dark shape, some thirty feet long, materialized in the clouds above the clearing. It slowly descended towards the ground. Triangular sheets of metal, joined together in hard, angular form, like a knife cutting through the clouds. White-hot cones of flame burned in the back. Stubby legs extended from the bottom and crushed the grass as it touched down. The flames went out, and the flying ship settled on the ground, inert and lifeless.

Dellander stood for several moments, awestruck at the sight. A craft of red metal and blue flames, flying through the sky! The villagers didn't seem to share his excitement. They stood back, looking weary and guarded.

There was a flash of light near the front of a ship, and a human figure landed on the ground. It straightened and examined its surroundings. It spotted Dellander and the villagers and started walking towards them, its gray cloak billowing behind it.

The figure wore gray and dark red clothing that was battered and worn. The armor across its chest and shoulders was scratched and scarred, yet still obviously better quality that his own outfit. It had a slender frame and narrow waist. A woman then.

She reached the edge of the clearing and met Dellander's gaze. Her helmet stared back at him, cold and expressionless.

"So…" Dellander said, "You're a Guardian? From the City?"

The woman groaned and pulled her helmet off, revealing light brown skin and olive green hair. She cursed to herself.

"You're a blueberry, aren't you?"

"I beg your pardon?" Dellander replied.

"Blueberry," she said, "It means you're fresh and risen by your Ghost. You're fresh out of death, when your face was all shriveled and blue."

"…Okay." This was _not_ how expected the conversation to go.

The Guardian looked past him, at the silent villagers. "Where'd you find the refugees?" she asked.

"Right in these mountains, some ways back," Dellander said.

"That's interesting. I didn't think there was anyone left in this area. They're almost as surprising as you are."

"Well, you said, we're refugees. If what I hear is true, and you come from a safe city, then we would really appreciate ride."

The Guardian glanced back at her flying ship, apprehensive.

"I'm won't be able to fit all of you, but I can-"

"Larr, what's your status?" a distant, crackly voice interrupted.

"Who said that?" Dellander asked.

"Give me a minute," Larr said, turning away and pressing her hand against her ear. "Shiro," she said, "I found the source of the distress signal. It's a Guardian alright. A blueberry."

"A Risen? All the way out here?" the voice said. It belonged to a man, sharp and arrogant. "Pick him up, but leave him in your ship. We can't afford to waste time babysitting a new Guardian. Chelor already has a head start as it is."

"I can't," Larr said, "He managed to collect some refugees. Nearly two dozen of them."

Whoever she was talking to, Shiro, didn't respond immediately. Dellander pushed down the growing knot of anxiety in his stomach. There was something he didn't like about that voice.

"We don't have the resources to evac that many," Shiro replied, "not while the Devils have the area under lockdown. Tell them to find a place to hide. Zavala can send a transport after we've flushed Chelor out."

"Are you kidding me?" the woman asked, growing visibly agitated. She stepped away and spoke quietly, but Dellander was still close enough to hear. "There are Fallen all over these mountains. Leaving them here is a death sentence!"

"Flying them out isn't an option," Shiro replied.

"I'll stay with them for now. A blueberry won't be able to protect them on his own."

"I think I've done a decent job so far," Dellander said.

Larr immedately raised a hand to silence him

"No, you need to get back in the air," Shiro insisted, "The sooner we break the Fallen's hold on these mountains, the sooner we can get them to the City."

"Shiro, we can't just leave them -" Larr began.

"That's an order," Shiro said, "I don't have any bodies to spare. That includes you. Get back in the air, and find Chelor."

Shiro's voice went silent.

Larr slowly lowered her hand and turned around.

"You're not just going to abandon us, are you?" Dellander asked.

"You heard him. I have to. Orders are orders."

"I don't care what he said!" Dellander shouted, "We've been on the run for days. We're surrounded by monsters who will kill us if they find us."

"Look," Larr said, defensive, "I'm about as happy with this as you are, but this is a Vanguard sanctioned strike. It's not an order I can really disobey right now."

An uncomfortable silence stretched between the two Guardians.

"If you're going to leave, leave," Selma spat, stepping out of the trees. "Wouldn't want someone whose too good to help us anyways, so get on your merry way."

Larr stared at them for a while. "Listen, I will be back. We'll get you out of here. Your safest bet is to find a place to hunker down and try to avoid being seen."

"It's too late," Dellander said, "The Fallen know we're here."

"But they don't know where you are, otherwise this place would be surrounded." She held out her hand. The air above it folded in on itself and formed into a long, dark blue rifle.

"Take this then. Only use it if you're found. Don't try to get out of the mountains. The Fallen have all the valleys blocked."

Dellander accepted the rifle. "How can I trust you to come back."

The woman bit her lip. "I can offer you my word, but not much else. Just stay alive for a few more days, and you'll make it out of this."

She held out her hand and her Ghost appeared. "Take us up." Her features blurred, and she vanished in a pulse of light.

The flames on the flying ship reignited, and it lifted into the air and vanished in the mist.

"Well, so much for that," Dellander said.

Selma barked a sharp, sardonic laugh. "Wasn't she lovely."

"I don't think it was her. The man she spoke to was giving orders," Dellander said.

"Doesn't matter. She left anyway."

Dellander bit his lip. She had a point, and frankly, he agreed with her. "So…what now?"

"Now?" Selma replied, "The only thing's changed is you have a new gun. There are too many Fallen here. We keep going. Get out of these forsaken mountains."

"She said that's not a good idea. The Fallen, they're blocking the valleys," Dellander said.

"It's a risk we're going to have to take," Dramu said, "They're hunting us now. There's dozens of them to the south. We won't stand a chance if they catch up. ."

Dellander looked at the rest of the villagers. They were a sorry lot, wet and tattered and somehow more forlorn than they'd been before. Nobody was coming to help them. They were on their own.

"You understand that there's a good chance we'll all be dead within a day, right?" Dellander asked.

One by one, they nodded in acknowledgement.

"Let's not keep death waiting then."

* * *

It only took them a couple hours to walk into the trap.

Kara returned from watching their rear. She reported they were being followed, a total of at least sixty Fallen, advancing in a line across the valley.

Selma ordered them to pick up the pace. A few miles later, they rounded a bend in the valley that overlooked the plains beyond. Freedom and safety, tantalizingly close.

They started moving even faster at the sight of open ground, practically scrambling through the trees. They were so determined on escaping that they didn't notice the ambush until the charged right in to it.

The first Fallen, one with two arms, jumped out from behind a tree. It had a knife in one hand and a crackling rod of lightning in the other. It tossed the rod, and it landed a few feet from Dellander.

It took him a moment to realize the rod was a grenade.

"Get down!" he shouted as he jumped away. The grenade exploded. Dellander went sprawling face down in the dirt. He rolled onto his back and spat mud out of his mouth. His back and sides burned with pain, but he could already feel the skin healing up.

A series of electric snaps came from somewhere behind him, followed by a series of gunshots.

The Fallen that threw the grenade charged, knife raised high. Dellander drew his pistol and shot it.

He pulled himself to his feet and collected his bearings. His helmet formed over his head without him even asking.

A dozen Fallen had emerged from the trees. They formed a rough half-circle around the villagers, who stood in a clump with their own weapons raised.

Dellander moved without thinking. A grenade formed in his hand. He tossed it towards the nearest four-arms. He raised his pistol and dropped a pair of two-arms as the four-arms burst into flames. Some of the closer Fallen turned to face him, even as the villagers fired their own weapons.

A two-arms jumped at him. He drew his knife and impaled its neck. He felt a sharp sting on his shoulder. He yanked his knife out of the two-arms and threw it at the four-arms that had shot him.

The blade buried itself in the four-arm's leg. He finished it with a bullet to the chest.

A giant Fallen appeared behind him. Dellander yelped as a five-inch wide sword arced through the air. He scrambled back. The blade missed his face by inches.

The giant Fallen growled and hefted its swords. The monster of an alien had a good two feet on him, and sharp, pointy horns on its helmet.

Dellander fired. The bullet ricocheted off with a crack.

The giant stepped towards him, a blue film visible around it. Dellander retreated and fired his last three bullets at it. They were no more effective than the first, the blue film just stopped them dead. It realized he was out of bullets and charged.

A loud boom rang out. The giant Fallen staggered to the side.

Selma stepped forward and fired the second barrel of her shotgun. The pellets hit the Fallen like a train. The glowing film surrounding it flickered and went out.

The giant Fallen spun to face Selma. Dellander scrambled to reload. He stuffed a fresh tube in the cylinder and slammed it shut.

Selma ducked as the Fallen swung its blades. Dellander fired. He aimed high, well above Selma's height. His shot bounced off the monster's helmet.

Dellander panicked. The Fallen kept advancing, even as Selma struggled to reload. Nobody else was close enough to help.

He took a step forward and almost tripped over a body. The body of the four-arms he had downed a moment ago. His knife was still sticking out of it. He ripped the blade out and threw it at the Fallen.

The knife struck its hand as it raised its swords to cleave Selma in half. It roared and dropped the sword. It turned back to Dellander, eyes alight with hatred.

Selma snapped her shotgun shut and pressed the barrels against the Fallen's back. There was a boom and a hollow thump. The Fallen teetered and fell face first in the dirt.

A short distance away, Kara fired her rifle, and the last two-arms died.

Dellander scanned the villagers. They had collapsed into a tight clump when the shooting started. It was a stupid move, made them easy targets, but miraculously, none of them had died. Dellander released his breath. Nobody had died.

Dellander moved through the villagers, inspecting their wounds. A few of them had burns from the Fallen weapons. Dramu had a piece of smoldering wire lodged in his upper arm.

"I'll be fine for now," Dramu assured, noticing his concern.The man moved off, keeping an eye on the forest around them.

Dellander retrieved his knife from the dead Fallen and cleaned off the blade. Selma kicked the monstrous pirate's body.

"This was a captain," she said, "They probably guessed we would have to make our way-"

"Guardian," Silla said, "I'm picking up movement behind us."

"How far?" Dellander asked.

"About five hundred feet and closing fast."

"Go! Now!" Selma shouted. She pulled one of the villagers to her feet and started running. Everyone else followed. Dellander took off after them, bringing up the rear.

"Silla," he said as he wove between the trees, "Whatever you did to get that Guardian's attention, do it again, as loud as you can. Tell her if she doesn't get here now, we're all dead."

"She didn't help us the first time, do you really think she'll respond now?"

"She sure as hell better."

The Ghost chirped and fell silent. The rain picked up again as they ran. It thickened went from a thin mist to a pounding shower.

They moved as fast as they could, but that wasn't fast enough. Dellander caught flashes of movement through the trees behind them. The Fallen were gaining.

The trees fell away, and he burst into the open. The villagers were strung out across the field in front of him. The waist height grass stretched on towards the gray horizon. They were out of the mountains. They were finally free.

Except they weren't.

The first Fallen emerged from the trees behind them. It was a short two-arms, and it screeched in homicidal delight when it spotted them.

Dellander glanced over his shoulder as more Fallen appeared. Five, then ten, then twenty. A four-arms aimed a rifle and fired. The bolt of burning lightning shot a few inches wide of his head. It struck the ground somewhere in front of him and lit the grass on fire.

He realized his mistake as another sniper joined the first, and the rest started advancing. They were sitting ducks out here in the open. They were as good as dead the moment they stepped out of the trees.

"Keep going. Try to find a silo or a cave, somewhere you can hold out," he shouted to the villagers

Dellander slowed to a stop and pulled Larr's rifle off his back.

Selma stopped, the rest of the villagers running past her. "Are you insane?" she shouted, "There's dozens of them, you won't stand a chance!"

"I'm going to buy you some time." Dellander said. "Just go."

Selma shook her head. "I sure as hell better see you again, Dellander." Reluctantly, she turned around kept going, leaving him alone in a field with a small army of Fallen.

There were at least forty of them now, and more arriving each minute. He raised the rifle to his shoulder. A lightning bot streaked past. He ignored. He centered the scope on one sniper's head and gently squeezed the trigger.

The bullet struck the Fallen in the neck and went clean through the other side. He chambered another round and killed the second sniper. Another one took its place, and they started advancing, even as he picked off two more. One man against dozens. They had him beat, and they knew it.

He kept firing until he was out of bullets. A dozen Fallen lay dead in the grass, but four times as many remained. He took a lightning bolt to the shoulder. The rest drew closer as he ripped the scrap of wire out of the wound.

The snipers stopped shooting now, letting the two-arms and the attack boxes close in for the kill. They were less than a hundred paces away.

"Wait as long as you can to bring me back, if you can," Dellander said. He drew his pistol and waited for them to get closer. "If they think they've won, they might wait before going after the others."

The villagers had receded to dark specks in the distance. He hopped there was something out there for them.

He steeled himself and stood up. He would take as many with him as he could. He prepared to form a grenade in his hand.

A hundred feet away, the Fallen stopped. They stood in a loose line, weapons raised, but not firing.

"Come on!" Dellander shouted, "What are you waiting for?" He stepped forward and summoned the fire.

"There's a ship approaching," Silla said, "A Fallen ship."

Dellander lowered his hand. "Do they really think they need reinforcements?"

The sky above them rippled and split. The bulbous, insectoid form of a Fallen flying-ship appeared. It hung there for a moment, big red eyes and black canons staring at him.

Something huge emerged from the hatch on the bottom. Six powerful limbs clawed at the air and it dropped behind the Fallen with a crunch.

The giant Fallen unfolded itself and stretched to its full height. It made the captain they had killed look tiny. The massive, powerful body stood twelve feet tall, and it clutched a giant weapon with four smoldering barrels. A tattered rust red cloak hung from its shoulders.

"What the hell is that thing?" Dellander asked.

"That's a Fallen baroness," Silla said, "Apparently their leader wanted to kill you herself."

The baroness shouted something in its guttural language. The assembled Fallen roared in agreement. The baroness pushed through them and pointed at him. Accusing him. Challenging him. It walked forward, until there was only fifty feet between them.

Anger kindled deep in Dellander's chest. This...monster held itself with obvious arrogance. It had come across the stars and tried to claim his world as its own. He realized in that moment that he genuinely hated the Fallen.

"I don't know who you think you are, but you have no right to be here!" he shouted, "This isn't your world, and it never will be. You think you can just muscle in and take it for yourself. Well I have news for you, you can't!"

He spoke mostly as a distraction, something to buy even a few more precious moments. The baroness cocked its head, stumped by his bravado.

He lowered his gun to his side. Where was this anger coming from? He was about to die for a second time. Why wasn't he afraid?

The baroness stood across from him, smoldering weapon cradled loosely in its arms, nothing but wet grass between them.

 _A dark figure in front of him, hand at its hip, dusty ground between them._

The anger solidified into a warm purpose that filled his chest. Now he understood.

The Fallen watched from behind the baroness, a mix of fear and hatred in their postures.

 _Rough wooden buildings on either side. Human faces, filled with mixtures of fear and hope._

He remembered why he was angry. He had been here before. He had failed.

The baroness raised its gun. Dellander raised his weapon in a flash of movement.

Now he had a second chance. Now he would finish the job.

He fired. The bullet struck its hand. It dropped its gun.

He took a step forward and fired again. The rain poured down as he shot bullet after bullet at the monster.

 _The sun beat down as the figure reached for his gun. Dellander grabbed for his, but he was to slow. A loud crack rang out._

 _The sun beat down as his life drained away._

The heat surged in his chest as he held up his gun. The pistol burst alight with the fires of creation.

He leveled the blazing pistol and fired. A searing blast of pure starfire exploded against the baroness's chest. He fired again. The baroness howled in pain as its skin caught fire.

His final shot burned off its face.

The headless body teetered for a moment,then tipped over and fell face first in the mud. Dellander lowered his gun and met the gaze of the remaining Fallen. The rain hissed off his steaming body as the golden light evaporated.

The looked at their dead leader, and they looked back at him, the man who had killed the creature.

One by one, the Fallen retreated back into the forest.

Dellander holstered his pistol, empty of both bullets and Light. He stood for a moment as the heat in his body ebbed away. A pervading calm settled over him. He had known all along what the answer was. Sometimes, it just came down to a man and his gun.

He drew his knife and crossed to the corpse. He cut the cloak from the baroness's shoulders and ripped away the burnt parts. What was left, he tied over his neck.

"You…you killed it," Selma whispered as the villagers approached from behind.

"Oh gee, you think so?" Silla said as Dellander stood, his new cloak falling down his back.

"We shoud keep going," Dellander insisted, "There's still a lot of Fallen in those mountains. We need to get to shelter before they decide to avenge their leader."

"I hear you," Selma said, "but we have a few injuries I would prefer to tend to first."

Six of the villagers had wounds from the ambush in the trees. They set about cleaning off the burns with water and bandaged them with strips of torn cloth. Dellander pulled off his helmet and stood guard a few feet away, watching for movement in the trees.

"Dellander," Silla said, "There's a ship incoming." His hand immediately dropped to his pistol. "It's not Fallen," she continued, "It's Larr."

The dark wedge of Larr's flying ship emerged from the clouds above the mountains and swooped low over the field. It circled them once and landed in the grass a short distance away.

Larr appeared in front of the ship. She looked over Dellander and the ragged villagers for a long moment. Then she crossed to the body of the dead baroness and poked it with her boot.

"Did you do this?" she asked incredulously.

"No, it's head just exploded on its own," Dellander replied.

Larr shook her head. "Well, congratulations Guardian. You just killed the most powerful Fallen within a thousand miles." She pressed her finger against her ear. "Shiro, Chelor is dead."

"What?! How did you find her?" the arrogant voice crackled.

"I didn't," Larr replied, "She found the blueberry. He blasted her head off."

"Impossible. There's no way a Risen just killed a high-ranking Devil commander."

"You better believe it. I'm staring at the corpse."

"I'll believe it when I see it. I'm coming to your location now. ETA of fifteen minutes."

The voice shut off with a click, and Larr rolled her eyes. "Cocky prick," she muttered under his breath. "He's not that bad," she said when she noticed Dellander's glare, "He just gets grumpy sometimes. I'm sure he'll apologize for abandoning you when he sees what you did."

"He should have never ordered you to abandoned us in the first place," Dellander spat, not even trying to keep the anger out of his voice. "And you should never have agreed. We almost got killed here."

"You're right," Larr said, "I should have stayed. But, the baroness is dead now, which means I can stay and help."

"And what after that? Do you ever plan on taking us to your city?" Dellander asked.

"Soon," Larr continued, "Without leadership, the Fallen here will turn on each other and their command structure will collapse. Things are going to get chaotic here in the next few days, and we'll be able to start taking control of the region. We'll get a transport in here as soon as the airspace is clear."

"Wonderful," Dellander said. He stifled a yawn and started walking towards Larr's ship. The ground underneath would still be wet, but at least it would be out of the rain. He slipped under the prow and rolled his new cloak into a pillow.

"What are you doing?" Larr asked.

"Me? It's been a long day. I'm going to get some sleep."


End file.
